RHYMES 



FROM THE 

TA BARBARA HILLS 



CHARLES EDWARD STOWE 







MY SONGS 

Whene'er I stroll o'er hill or plain, 
On canyon trails or by the sea, 

They flit about my idle brain, 
Or sing within my heart to me. 

They fly on light fantastic wing 

Of azure blue, or gold and brown. 

And while they joy and sadness bring, 
I pause awhile to write them down. 



San Ysidro Ranch, the Winter of IQ20. 



I- 



CO 



APR -6 1920 

Copyright 1920 
Charles Edward Stowe 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Forerunner vii 

Dedication to Hester 1 

Dear Friend of Long Ago 3 

San Ysidro Ranch 4 

The View Over Montecito 5 

Montecito 7 

In San Ysidro Canyon 8 

San Ysidro Canyon 9 

San Ysidro 10 

Theodora 11 

The Santa Barbara Hills 12 

Love Divine 13 

Sleep, Beloved 14 

1 Feel I Am a Boy Again 16 

The Fairy Bells 18 

Ne te quasiveris extra 19 

The Rain 20 

The Birthday 21 

My Love, My Joy, My Daughter 22 

The Picture of My Daughter 23 

Death of an Artist Friend 24 

The Dearest Dog That I Have Known 25 

HUMOROUS POEMS 

The Wet's Lament 27 

Slanderers and Flies 28 

The Naughty Mobile 29 



C1A564981 



Avt V 



FORERUNNER 



The writer of the little rhymes contained in this 
booklet is well aware that poetry, like music and paint- 
ing, is an art with distinctive technique. He furthermore 
recognizes the fact that as one may be musical but not a 
musician, and artistic and not a painter or sculptor, so 
one may be poetic but not a poet. At the risk of appear- 
ing most deliciously naive to the critical reader, he would 
say that he is most profoundly ignorant both of the art 
and the technique of poetry. 

From childhood the writer has had a certain native 
gift for rhyming, which has been a source of innocent 
diversion both to himself and his friends. 

On one depressing occasion only has he sought wider 
publicity through editorial introduction, and then his 
fruits of poetic genius were returned to him most gra- 
ciously and cheerfully with humiliating promptitude. 

He is cheered, however, by the reflection that not all 
flowers grow in greenhouses, and that there is one rebel- 
lious little star that is the despair of orthodox astron- 
omers owing to its apparent defiance of Newton's laws. 

Is it not possible, then, that there may be poems that, 
like Topsy, "jest growed," in defiance of the critical 
autocracy ? 

Charles Edward Stowe. 
San Ysidro Ranch, 
Montecito, January, 1920. 



vii. 



DEDICATION 



TO HESTER 

When Hester once doth homeward fly, 
Her loss I never can supply, 
Not if ten thousand times I try. 
In vain endeavor. 

For when she soon doth hence depart. 
She takes with her my joy, my heart, 
And spite of all my craft and art, 
I'll miss her ever. 

And oft I'll ride the mountain way. 
Or by the oceanside I'll stray, 
And think upon the happy day 
We were together. 

And this the tale that will be told. 
That she so young, and I so old. 
We parted ere our love grew cold — 
Oh, yes, forever. 

ALAS HESTER, EHEU ME MISERUM ! 

Darkness of night enshrouds my soul. 

My Hester's gone forever. 
Like funeral bells let minutes toll. 

All down Time's fleeting river. 

O cruel train, I plead in vain — 
You whirl away my Hester, 

And leave me but the sad refrain — 
/ loved her, then I missed her. 

For o'er the gulf so deep and wide, 

The fifty years between us, 
The days we lived close side by side. 

She was my Star, my Venus. 

[1] 



Non esurient neque sitient amplius, sec cadet super illos 
sol neque ullus aestus — Feb. 24, 1918. 



DEAR FRIEND OF LONG AGO. 

(Tune, Auld Lang Syne.) 

'Are they not all ministering spirits sent forth to minister 

unto them that shall be the heirs of salvation?" 

— Epistle to the Hebrews. 

How sweet your music in my heart. 

It singeth soft and low. 
Abide with me and ne'er depart, 

Dear friend of long ago. 

I stood by death's cold, icy stream, 
And watched you pass its flow. 

But still you ever near me seem — 
Dear friend of long ago. 

I live a life of fitful dreams; 

But real the life you know. 
You near me press, it ever seems — 

Dear friend of long ago. 

You hover o'er me while I sleep, 

Pure as the falling snow. 
You dry each bitter tear I weep — 

Dear friend of long ago. 

I feel that I am nearing fast 
The land of joy you know, 

And I shall meet you there at last — 
Dear friend of long ago. 

[3] 



SAN YSIDRO RANCH 

(Tune, Home, Sweet Home.) 

In Florida sought De Leon in vain 

The Fountain of Youth when he came from 

old Spain. 
But here you can find it, grow young in its 

flow; 
It sparkles and glistens in San Ysidro. 

I dream in the Canyon, I stroll by the sea, 
Each day it grows dearer and dearer to me. 
No pleasures of cities, their pomp and their 

show. 
Can tempt me away from San Ysidro. 

I climb to the hill-top, and, gazing afar. 
See, over the fog-banks that shroud Miramar, 
The sun shines brightly as fleeteth each day. 
And friendly the stars when the moons wane 
away. 

In fond recollection they're near to my heart, 
The many kind friends I've seen come and 

depart. 
So many dear people that I've learned to 

know 
Since I pitched my tent in San Ysidro. 

O, Heaven, they say, is a land of delight. 
Its meadows so fair, its angels so bright. 
All this may be true; but one thing I know. 
It has a strong rival in San Ysidro. 

14] 



THE VIEW OVER MONTECITO 

In soft'ning light of closing day, 
I love to walk this dreamy way 
That crests the undulating hill, 
When all below is calm and still. 

For then before my charmed eyes 
Sweet miracles of beauty rise. 
As Nature from her lavish store 
Pours out the riches I adore. 

Far to my right, in golden sheen, 
The waters of the Channel seen. 
Would woo the sinking sun to rest 
Upon the sleeping ocean's breast. 

As fairy fingers touch the keys 
On slender eucalyptus trees, 
I listen with a glad surprise 
And hear the sweetest music rise. 

Down in the pastures far below 
I see the cattle grazing go. 
And sounding o'er the hill-side swell 
I hear the faintly tinkling bell. 

Where, hiding 'mid the shady lees. 
The timid houses peep from trees, 
I see the smoke of chimneys rise 
And melt in azure of the skies. 



ts] 



And far across the Channel's blue, 
In serrate outline comes in view 
The Channel Islands' rocky shore, 
Where ocean Titans surge and roar. 

Touched by the rosy sunset glow. 
The stern old hill-tops melt and flow, 
While tow'ring o'er Carpinterea 
I see the giant Rincon rear. 

White ghostly fingers trace afar 
The foam-line where the beaches are. 
And stretching on along the sea 
The coast hills melt in mystery. 



[6] 



MONTECITO. 

'Neath gnarled oak tree, old and gray, 

I on a mossy boulder lay. 

Bright flowers nestled at my feet; 

Above a bird sang ''SWEET SWEET 

SWEET" 
'Twas in the days of early Spring, 
When nymphs, and fairies gaily sing: — 
''Montecito I Montecito r 

Betwixt the mountains and the sea 
A fairy-land thou are to me. 
For here is ever^^thing to please, 
Rich olive groves, and orange trees, 
And from the rocks and hills around. 
Echoes thy name melodious sound: — 
''Montecito I Montecito T 

All in along the Channel Drive 
I'm thanking God that I'm alive. 
The sunny wavelets on the sea. 
Are sparkling, sparkling merrily. 
Dear children playing on the shore, 
And flowers blooming evermore: — 
''Montecito I Montecito r 

Swift day treads on the heel of day. 

And new moons haste to wane away: — 

Our friends may come, our friends may go; 

Old Ocean's tides may ebb and flow; 

But thou wilt faithful bide we know; 

O just because we love thee so: — 

"Montecito ! Montecito r 

m 



IN SAN YSIDRO CANYON. 

I love this canyon, for it seems 

A place of mystery and dreams. 

Weird faces on the rocks around, 

And shadows creeping o'er the ground. 

And from each gnarled and mossy tree 

So many eyes are watching me. 

Shy nymphs bathe in the stream below; 

They're Dryads where the oak trees grow. 

Soft voices make a murm'ring sound, 

Anon a titt'ring laugh goes round, 

And though I can no person see, 

I know they're making sport of me. 

But in the game I am left out 

By these strange beings round about. 

Among the leafy boughs on high 

From time to time I hear a sigh. 

And with a dim and muffled roar 

The breakers answer from the shore. 

And are there shades and spirits then 
Of those who once were living men? 
And lies it round us like a cloud, 
A world that doth those beings shroud? 
'Twere easy then indeed to see 
How interesting death might be; 
To wake as from a troubled dream, 
And then another world be seen. 
As when on journeys here we roam, 
And then, returning, seek our home; 
So in some brighter world above 
To join with those we know and love, 
To feel all trouble flee away, 
All sorrow and all care, some day. 
Just over there. 

[8] 



SAN YSIDRO CANYON. 

let me in this canyon be, 

Beneath the open sky, 
Where I can gaze far out to sea, 
When's time for me to die. 

Let rocks and trees be round my head, 
My brothers and my friends, 

The leaves for me a downy bed. 
When my life's journey ends. 

Spare me the cautious, muffled tread. 

The close and stuffy air. 
The faces bending o'er my bed 

With most depressing care. 

But here, where all is bright and fair, 
Let me be lying when 

1 launch my blithesome plane in air 

And soar o'er sea again. 

And let there be no mummery 
O'er my unconscious frame; 

When I have flown far out to sea, 
Just give it to the flame. 

O joy to mingle with the air. 

Melt in the azure-blue, 
To leave all sorrow and all care. 

When my life's journey's through. 

To sink into the mystery. 

The beauty that I love. 
Of Nature ever dear to me. 

Around, beneath, above. 

19] 



SAN YSIDRO 

There comes to me a legend old 

Of this fair, sunny land 
Before 'twas cursed by love of gold 

And selfish, grasping hand. 

There were no multimillionaires 

With their luxurious ease, 
Each one a sleek and pampered mouse 

Within his mighty cheese. 

There was no noisome motor-breath 

To poison all the roads 
And scare the horses half to death 

And make them drop their loads. 

The life was most idyllic, quaint. 

On this enchanted shore, 
When San Ysidro, that dear saint, 

Lived in the days of yore. 

He raised such crops of waving grain 

As no man raises now; 
He raised them not for greed of gain, 

For angels held the plough. 

'^How raise such crops," the neighbors cried, 
'^Thou man of prayer and vow?" 

^'O, while I pray," the saint replied, 
^'The angels hold the plough." 



[10] 



His life on earth one sacrament, 

He is in heaven now; 
He lived on earth serene, content, 

While angels held the plough. 

O, would you raise such crops as he. 
Just make his holy vow: 
''My God, appoint my work for me," 
''Let angels hold the plough." 



THEODORA 

Her smile is like the suns that shine 

On fresh and dewy morn. 
Her hair as graceful shadows stream 

Across a velvet lawn. 
Her eyes are as still mountain lakes 

Reflect the sun at dawn. 
Her cheeks in irridescent tint 

Are like the pale pink rose. 
Her teeth like pearls that shine and glint 

Are white as mountain snows. 
I see her glide about the ranch, 

And glitter as she goes. 



[Ill 



THE SANTA BARBARA HILLS. 

My dear old friends they've grown to be, 

These rugged hills beside the sea. 

Yet often through my being thrills 

A sad, still music from these hills. 

As they are now, so once were we; 

As they are now, so shall we be. 

Their stony gaze on us is bent; 

Their silence is most eloquent; 

They grimly watch our ebb and flow — 

We short-lived mortals here below. 

They know we live our little day 

And then we quickly pass away, 

As wave on wave breaks on the shore 

And dies with sad retreating roar, 

Forever and forevermore ! 

I know them well, and whence they came, 
Born of the volcano's womb of flame ! 
But O ! the anguish they have known 
And borne in darkness and alone ! 
Titanic forces, long since spent. 
Their tortured vitals tore and rent, 
Till down they sank to wat'ry graves 
Beneath the angry, hissing waves. 
They sank to rest, to dream, to sleep, 
Far down beneath the ocean deep. 
Till earthquakes shook both sea and shore 
And waked them from their dreams once 

more. 
Yea ! waked them up and made them stand 
In serried rows along the land ! 

[12] 



Their faces old are sere and brown 
With gulleys where their tears ran down. 
Like us, they often long for rest — 
To sink beneath the ocean's breast; 
But still they fear, when Titans wake, 
The trembling firmament should quake, 
And while the stars affrighted flee. 
They sink into a fiery sea. 
Such thoughts as these our souls appall ! 
Such haunting fears are in us all. 

Great sentinels along the land, 
May we, like you, each faithful stand 
Till bugles sound at break of day 
To call us from our posts away. 



O LOVE DIVINE 

O love divine, to Thee I flee — 
Pecavi do mine, pecavi. 
Unworthy I, yet thou dost come — 
Sub tectum meum, sub tectum meum. 
Abide Thou evermore with me — 
Confitebor tibi domine. 



C13} 



SLEEP, BELOVED. GENTLY SLEEP 

Sleep on, Beloved, gently sleep. 

Ye Birds sing soft above her. 
O wake her not with me to weep 

Her broken-hearted lover. 

Thy grave's to me a holy shrine, 

My love the altar-fire, 
And ril not wake that sleep of thine 

For my earth-born desire. 

Through summer heat and winter snow 

Thou sleepest calmly on, 
Nor wakest in thy couch below 

When brightest suns have shone. 

How oft, how oft on far-of¥ shore 
I've loved and yearned towards the( 

Who sleepest now forevermore. 
Thy grave so far from me. 

From thy dear image in my heart 

I can be parted never. 
So pure, so beautiful thou art. 

My Love, my Joy forever. 

You hover round me while I wake; 

You melt into my dreams, 
Tho pain I sufifer for thy sake. 

But joy to me it seems. 



E14] 



For thee no ill the future hides; 

The present hath no pain. 
A cloistered stillness e'er abides 

That knows no loss, no gain. 

In life's hot fret and rude alarm 
'Tis peace to think of thee 

Within thy grave so still and calm 
Where thou dost wait for me. 

Sleep on, Beloved, gently sleep. 
From pain and grief rest taking; 

Soon side by side in slumber deep 
Our sleep will know no waking. 



[15] 



I FEEL I AM A BOY AGAIN 

I know that I have older grown, 
And many happy years have flown, 
Since merry days went sparkling by. 
Beneath a blithesome sunny sky; 
But I can still their music hear, 
It joyous sounds within my ear. 
The music of a soul that's young, 
When life is fresh and just begun. 
And when I catch its gay refrain, 
I feel I am a boy again. 

From fogs and mists that shroud the past, 
These elfish shapes are rising fast. 
The forms of boys and girls I knew: 
All glitt'ring like the morning dew. 
We play again the pranks we played, 
And all the jokes and fun we made. 
And all around we romp and race, 
A smile upon each happy face: — 

then my joy I can't contain. 

1 feel I am a boy again. 

I sail with boys and girls I knew: — 

such a careless happy crew. 

1 hold the tiller, trim the sail, 

And friends in other boats we hail. 

The girl I love sits in the bow. 

It seems to me I see her now. 

I see the pretty plaid she wore, 

That jaunty hat I did adore. 

I strive to catch her eye in vain. 

I feel I am a boy again. 

[16] 



I skirt along the old hedge-row. 
I seek the dear old house I know. 
I feel as wings were on my feet. 
The apple-blossoms are so sweet. 
I hear the crickets chirp and sing. 
I smell the violets I bring. 
She's sitting in the window there. 
I know she loves the gifts I bear. 
I hear her sing. O sweet refrain: 
I feel I am a boy again. 



[17] 



THE FAIRY BELLS RING 

From slender eucalyptus trees 

Whose tops are swaying in the breeze, 

I hear the fairies' silver bells ring, 

^^Ting ting ting-a-ling ling" — O days of 

Spring, 
When fairy bells ring ''Ting ting ting-a-ling 
ing. 

how the birds exultant sing, 
And breezes sweetest odors bring. 
And then the fairies' silver bells ring, 
''Ting ting ting-a-ling ling' — O days of 

Spring, 
When fairy bells ring "Ting ting ting-a-ling 
ling/^ 

1 have no sorrow, I have no care; 
They float away upon the air; 

They go when fairies' silver bells ring, 
"Ting ting ting-a-ling ling" — O days of 

Spring, 
When fairy bells ring "Ting ting ting-a-ling 

ling." 

The brook in the canyon sings its song, 

Flappy and merry it rushes on. 

And to its music fairy bells ring, 

"Ting ting ting-a-ling ling" — O days of 

Spring, 
When fairy bells ring "Ting ting ting-a-ling 

ling" 

[18] 



Of death and such I'm ne'er afraid; 
From stufif of birds and flowers I'm made; 
I'll float away as fairy bells ring, 
^^Ting ting ting-a-ling ling' — O days of 

Spring, 
My requiem the fairy bells ring. 



NE TE QUAESIVERIS EXTRA 

I met a queer flower when walking one day, 
A very odd flower that grew by the way. 
Said I, Queer flower, and how do you do? 
All the better, dear sir, for my meeting you. 

Said I, Queer flower, if you grew in the 

ranch. 
So strange is your seed, so crooked your 

branch. 
The people would pass you, exclaiming. 

Indeed, 
That flower's no flower, but only a weed. 

Then said the queer flower, I'd have you to 

know 
The way that God made me is the way that 

I grow; 
I'm always myself, I am what I am. 
Fm happy to meet you; I make my salaam. 



[19] 



THE RAIN 

I sit within my loved Jasmine, 

such delightful quarters, 
Where all around is murm'ring sound, 

The songs of rushing waters. 

The rain, the rain, the blessed rain 

1 hear it falling, falling, 

The rills and brooks are full again, 
And from the steeps are calling. 

Dark clouds are veiling all the sky, 
The rain pours from their fountains; 

The Canyon brook goes singing by, 
Descending from the mountains. 

Like waters of this brook I know, 
My days and years shall be, 

They'll all go swiftly whirling by, 
And n'er come back to me. 



[20] 



THE BIRTHDAY 

As the stream flows on forever, 

One year more, 
Fondest hopes and strong endeavor; 

Garner we the fruit they bore 

On its shore? 

Thro' the days and nights before us 

On we glide. 
Suns and stars are silent o'er us. 

Would we know the fate they hide? 

How decide? 

Doubting stand we at the portal, 

Far from home. 
Trembling, each a short-lived mortal. 

O'er the waves that rage and foam 

Still we roam. 



[211 



MY LOVE, MY JOY, MY DAUGHTER. 

Along the paths oft trod with thee. 
In canyon still, beside the sea. 
Thy blithesome voice I seem to hear. 
Thy joyous presence hov'reth near, 
My love, my joy, my daughter ! 

Man cannot live by bread alone, 
Nor could all worlds lost love atone I 
I could not live deprived of thee, 
So one our souls in sympathy ! 

My love, my joy, my daughter ! 

Deprived of thee ? that could not be: 
Of thee all nature speaks to me ! 
The gentlest wind is thy caress, 
Through sunlit glade you near me press. 
My love, my joy, my daughter ! 

Loved ones, long lost, I find in thee. 
Oft in thy voice they speak to me. 
Thy mother, and my sister too, 
They live and love again in you. 
My love, my joy, my daughter ! 



[22] 



THE PICTURE OF MY DAUGHTER. 

(To the artist.) 

I find it so, 
Where'er I go, 

That love is truest art. 
And love that painted this bright sketch 

Endears it to my heart. 

You surely knew 
To bring to view 

What nature only taught her, 
A striking living attitude 

Of my dear little daughter. 

The lines you drew. 
So fair and true. 

The attitude you caught her, 
Make doubly dear the work you do. 

This picture of my daughter. 



[23] 



DEATH OF AN ARTIST FRIEND 

When I awoke, a golden light 
Was breaking o'er the hill 
And day was wrestling with the night, 
Tho' stars were shining still. 

As in a trance or dream I lay 

And watched this wondrous thing. 

How nights are vanquished by the days 
That light and gladness bring. 

And then I thought of him who made 

My poor blind eyes to see 
A world with beauty overlaid. 

Type of a world to be. 

Shall he who taught me see no more 

The sunlight on the hills 
And beauty in the sea and shore 

That all my being thrills? 

I look unto the golden light 

That's breaking o'er the hill; 

A day that's wrestling with the night 
Will come ! I'm sure it will. 

A day so bright, so wondrous fair. 

So full of tender grace; 
And I shall know and love him there, 

And meet him face to face. 



[24] 



THE DEAREST DOG THAT I HAVE 
KNOWN. 

(At the grave of the friend and companion of my 
childhood). 

The dearest dog that I have known — 

He was a black and tan — 
Now sleeps beneath this mossy stone; 

We always called him ''Dan"! 

As vines that grow about this stone 

Are ever fresh and green, 
Just so my love for Dan has grown 

In all the years between. 

His eyes, his ears, his tail expressed 

In language of the soul 
The tumults of his loving breast 

That he could not control. 

One paw upon my foot he'd place, 

His jaw upon my knee, 
While gazing up into my face 

In tender sympathy. 

And O ! the wondrous hidden deeps 

Of those pathetic eyes I 
Twas like the mystery that sleeps 

Behind the summer skies. 

And then I've seen them flash and glint 

When enemies drew near; 
His hardy soul was like a flint, 

A soul that knew no fear. 

[25] 



And when I in the darkness woke, 

He lay beside my bed, 
And with his dear old tail he spoke, 

And I knew what he said. 

God bless his dear old doggy heart. 
Wherever he may be ! 

cruel fate that made us part. 

And sad the mystery ! 

But when I cross the Styx amain 
In Charon's ancient ark, 

1 know I'll see dear Dan again 

And hear his joyous bark. 



[26] 



HUMOROUS POEMS 



THE GRIEFS OF BIBULOUS BILL 

OR 

THE WET'S LAMENT. 

Morning and evening star, 

But not a drink for me ! 
There is no one behind the bar. 

What can the matter be ? 

But such a drought as makes me weep, 

As I stand here alone 
And thirst for beer drawn from the deep, 

So cool, with sparkling foam. 

whiskysour and brandysmash — 

I wonder where they are ! 

1 cannot buy them now for cash ; 

They no more cross the bar ! 

O could I turn into a fish 

And swim around the sea ! 
There's water, water everywhere — 

But not a drink for me ! 

O could I be an angel bright. 

And with the angels fly ! 
There's not a thing to drink in sight. 

And I must still go dry ! 



[27] 



SLANDERERS AND FLIES. 

As soon as the dawn begins to peep 

Upon the eastern skies, 
They come to rob me of my sleep — 

The wicked little flies. 

They light upon my wrists and crawl 

'Way to my finger-tips; 
And then — I hate it worst of all — 

They bite me on my lips. 

And if in desperation I 

Dive down beneath the clothes, 
He hunts me out, some wicked fly, 

And bites me on my nose. 

And when in sorrow and despair 

Up from my bed I rise, 
I vainly hunt 'most everywhere 

To find those cruel flies. 

They're like the tales men whisper round, 

The slander and the lies, 
For those who start them can't be found; 

They vanish like the flies. 

The dignity and worth of man. 

Low in the dust it lies; 
Defend himself no human can 

From slanderers and flies. 



[28] 



THE NAUGHTY MOBILE 

I'm out for blood, I thirst for gore ! 

I get it where I can. 
I drink it down and thirst for more, 

From woman, child or man. 

I jump around the corner quick 
And hit 'em as they fly, 

And so I'm on to ev'ry trick. 
And young and dev'lish spry. 

I do not fear the street patrol, 

For they will only say 
An auto is beyond control; 

Let folks keep out the way. 



[29] 




THESCHAUER 
PRINTIHG STUDIO 
SAN MARCOS ILOC. 



LIBRARY OF 




MY LOVE 

O while I draw this mortal breath, 
Her dearest name is given. 

Forevermore, in life, in death, 
To love her be my heaven. 

Ye Powers above, I fondly pray, 
From ev'ry ill defend her. 

Keep watch and ward about her way, 
And ev'ry blessing send her. 

Ye suns by day that shine so bright, 
Ye stars at night watch o'er her. 

O tell her she's my dear delight. 
And truly I adore her. 

Ye birds in air that sweetly sing :~ 
Go trill your notes above her. 

And so to her my message bring, 
And tell her how I love her. 



